


Give a man an inch...

by artisan447



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Camping, Episode Related, Episode: s03e10, Hugging, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 11:15:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artisan447/pseuds/artisan447
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleeping bags have sides. They do. Danny insists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give a man an inch...

**Author's Note:**

> Err, I'm not sure what happened. Highly influenced by [this interview](http://ms-artisan.livejournal.com/148817.html), which kind of got mashed together with [this conversation](http://thegrrrl2002.livejournal.com/239140.html). Really, just boys being very silly. I'm calling it a prequel to 310 -- as in, the night before. 
> 
> Many thanks to [](http://dogeared.livejournal.com/profile)[**dogeared**](http://dogeared.livejournal.com/) for the beta, and [](http://thegrrrl2002.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://thegrrrl2002.livejournal.com/)**thegrrrl2002** for encouraging noises.
> 
>   

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Can you do me a favour?"

Danny keeps his voice down to a low hiss because, while Steve pitched their tent a couple of yards away from the others, there's still only a wafer-thin layer of nylon between them and the rest of the world. And girls Gracie's age have big ears. As do their parents, three-quarters of whom have been hanging on Steve's every word all day to the point where they're probably permanently tuned in to his frequency; even now, when everyone is asleep.

Everyone, that is, except Danny. Because half an inch of so-called compressed foam between his ass and stones the size of small boulders is never going to cut it, no matter what Commander I've-slept-in-a-bivvy-hanging-off-the-side-of-a-cliff-you'll-be-fine McGarrett says.

Steve's eyes pop open, and Danny can see the light catch them, because he's only about three inches away. And yes, in the hell that is his life, tonight there's a full moon, so it's like trying to sleep in the middle of Times Square.

He's been awake for hours.

"Ahh, okay...?" Steve mumbles, stretching and rolling his head toward Danny, the bony point of his elbow jabbing hard into Danny's ribs.

And _that_ would be because they're sharing the same sleeping mat and bag because apparently Steve 'forgot' to bring two -- as if the big lug ever 'forgets' anything when it comes to survival. Not that he even tried for an excuse, just said: "Don't worry, Danny, body heat's always good in the wilderness." And what's Danny supposed to do with that, huh? Especially when Steve's face when he said it was the fond one, the one that says he has no idea what Danny's all worked up about, so he'll just wait it out until he gets an opening to grin and say "okay, Danno" and completely take the wind out of his sails. It's not as though Danny doesn't know what he's up to when he does it, either, but he still falls for it every time. And he hates it; a lot, just like he hates Steve.

Especially tonight, when every time Danny shifts, trying to make a little bit of space that he can curl up into, Steve just stretches out more, following him across the tiny mat like some kind of giant heat-seeking bed bug.

"See. This is my side of the sleeping bag," Danny says patiently, pointing to the tiny quarter-inch gap that's all that exists between them. "And that? That bit, right there," he points at the other side of the tent wall, "that side is yours."

Steve just grins, looking remarkably wide awake for someone who was soundly -- sprawlingly -- asleep just minutes ago, his teeth flashing white in the semi-dark. "Well, my arms and legs are longer than yours," is all he can manage, "and besides, sleeping bags don't have sides--"

"Oh, yes. Yes they do, Steven." Danny cuts him off, because if you give the man an inch he'll take a mile. And besides, he has no idea how two grown men are meant to fit comfortably into something that's about as big as a pizza box, let alone sleep. "This one, in particular, has sides, otherwise I would be all crammed over here, in the corner, while you-- you-- Wait. What are you doing?"

"There's no need to be crammed, Danny. You just... Look, like this." While he's talking, Steve somehow manages to slip one long arm under Danny's neck. Then he tugs at Danny's hip, shifting him up and around, as though he's a light-weight. Which, Danny knows for a fact, he is not.

"See? Isn't that better?" Steve asks when he finally settles with Danny tucked into his side, into the angle of his armpit, lying three-quarters on top of his broad chest. And no, better is not a word Danny would choose, especially when he's been trying to avoid close contact with Steve because of this thing that's between them that they've both been studiously ignoring for months. Danny is practiced in denial, is all he's saying -- he'd probably medal in it if it were an Olympic sport -- but this, this proximity thing? It's not exactly helping.

"No. No, that is not--" he protests, wriggling, dismayed by the way his body just seems to want to curl into Steve's without his permission. "How is me lying on top of you going to--"

"Danny," Steve interrupts, as though Danny's missing the entire point of the universe or something, his arm tightening as he pulls Danny even more firmly into his side. And okay, Danny suddenly thinks, maybe this _is_ the entire point of the universe, because lying like this, Steve's skin is remarkably soft and warm, and when he relaxes just a bit, he finds that the space under Steve's arm is just the right size for his shoulder to fall into.

And he is mostly off the evil filled-with-pointy-rocks ground which, well, maybe he could compromise just this once.

"Okay, okay," he concedes, relaxing a little bit more. And if he noses into the soft skin at the base of Steve's neck, then that's just because it's right there, and Steve actually smells pretty good for a guy who's been out in the sun most of the day drilling girl scouts in survival techniques. "Maybe, just for a little bit, I could try this out."

Steve just huffs out a laugh, and Danny's okay with that, especially if he can actually get some sleep now, because they'll no doubt be up at the crack of dawn. At least they're both wearing boxers and t-shirts because, hello -- girl scouts -- and who knows what the hell might happen in the middle of the night, so there are at least a couple of layers between them and--

His eyes spring open. "Hey, hey! Hands above the waist. Above the waist! There are young people, and, and... parents, just inches away!"

"Danny, will you just relax and go to sleep?" Steve's not letting go one little bit, no matter how much Danny swats at him. In fact, if anything, he's holding on tighter. "Sleep, Danno, that's all we're doing here. You know that thing that happens when you close your eyes and stop talking? Although, on second thought, maybe that's not actually something you're familiar with--"

"Oh, hardy har har. Listen to you, funny man," Danny shoots back, but there's no heat in it, and he can hear the smile in Steve's voice. He gives in to the pressure of Steve's arms, relaxing back into the same position, because it _is_ nice, lying like this with the warm weight of Steve's big hand on his ass. And, yes, he is a lot more relaxed now that he was half an hour ago, so... "All right, we're sleeping now. But one false move from you, Mr. Tentacles-for-hands, and we're bringing this arrangement to a halt. You get me?"

"Tentacles don't have hands," Steve mumbles, and now it's Danny's turn to smile because Steve's obviously more asleep than awake, his voice all raspy and quiet and his limbs heavy and slack.

"Go to sleep, you goof," he whispers, feeling stupidly fond and content.

They're both still for a few seconds, and then Steve shifts an inch and something that feels suspiciously like a soft kiss lands on Danny's head.

"I do get you, Danny," Steve murmurs, and he sounds so serious, so absolutely certain, that Danny's breath stutters in his chest and his heart starts to thump. He knows that it's true; that Steve gets him, gets everything about him, and has done since the day they met, and if anything was going to shut Danny up that would be it, because the real truth is that he gets Steve, too. He suddenly realizes that he doesn't really care that he has no idea what to call that, because it's nice, and it makes him feel happy, and it's not something he thought he'd ever have again.

He lies perfectly still and breathes carefully through his mouth, relaxing into the rhythmic thump of Steve's heart under his ear and the regular rise and fall of Steve's chest, until his own heart rate settles and his eyes slide shut.

\--the end--

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [at livejournal.](http://ms-artisan.livejournal.com/149137.html)


End file.
